


The Fear of Fellow Man

by rainbowdracula



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Artist Keith (Voltron), Courtship, M/M, Slow Burn, Vampire Shiro (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 02:10:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18273662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowdracula/pseuds/rainbowdracula
Summary: Up-and-coming artist Keith is shocked when a single man buys out half his first show and then commissions a portrait. At first the mysterious Takashi Shirogane seems like a devoted fan with a lot of money to spend – but as Keith starts work on his portrait, he finds himself with more and more questions about the elusive and enigmatic man.As for Shiro, eternity is meant for two.





	The Fear of Fellow Man

**Author's Note:**

> Consider this a rehash of Bauhaus, which I was never quite happy with. Title was generated from the [Hozier Title Generator.](http://generatorland.com/usergenerator.aspx?id=22501)

Keith had never felt so out of place in his whole life.

The gallery lights were dim and cool, the walls a stark flat white that made Keith’s paintings seem amateur and unworthy of being hung up there. The portraits were of friends and other willing models, ranging from simple busts to full body; Keith’s preferred medium was oil paints. His various social media followers described his paintings as _dreamy, Classical, amazing_ 😍 but were the well-heeled art buyers moving slowly through the various artists on display going to see that? Or did they want something a bit more…impressionistic?

Keith fiddled with the edges of the dark suit both Pidge and her mom assured made him look good; Keith still wondered if the all-black suit was a bit too on the nose. A few people had chatted with him about his paintings with apparent interest, but Keith wouldn’t know if they actually bought anything until tomorrow. At least it wasn’t an auction, which were just nerve-racking. He debated between checking out his competition and staying here to talk to potential future clients – even if the idea of marketing himself made him break out in hives. Just posting his paintings on Twitter and selling prints was so much simpler…

“How wonderful.”

Keith startled, surprised someone managed to sidle beside him without him noticing, and glanced over to his right. His breath caught – the owner of the deep, sonorous voice was probably one of the most attractive men he had ever seen.

The man was tall and broad, emphasized by the cut of his debonair double-breasted suit and absurdly good posture. He was square-jawed and clean-cut, his smile warm and friendly as he directed it towards Keith. Yet there was something in his eyes, some strange and lurking quality that made the hairs on the back of Keith’s neck stand up, pierced through by that penetrating gaze.

“Ah,” Keith said, gathering up his scant small talk skills. “Thank you.”

“There’s a dialogue between the subject and the painter in these,” the man continued. “It gives me a glimpse into how you see them, much more so than a simple photograph.”

“…Thank you,” Keith said again, unsure of what else to say. The man turned fully towards him, offering a hand. Keith hesitantly took it.

“Takashi Shirogane,” he said. His grip was very firm. “But my friends call me Shiro.”

 _Shiro._ “Keith Kogane.”

Shirogane let go of Keith’s hand, returning his burning attention back to the paintings. “Why portraits, if I may ask?”

That _was_ the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? “I think it’s interesting to do these, um, portraits you associated with royalty and the wealthy but have them be about normal, common people.”

How did Keith graduate art school when he absolutely hated talking about his art? One of the great mysteries of the world. Shirogane nodded like what Keith just said made any sort of sense.

“I see,” Shirogane replied. He checked his watch and then frowned. “I would love to pick your brain some more, but I have another engagement I have to get going to.”

He gave Keith another warm, disconcerting grin.

“I hope to see more of your work in the future,” Shirogane said.

“I hope so too,” Keith said, figuring even a weird client was still a client.

Shirogane left, and the rest of the night passed in a bit of a blur until the cold air of the dark early hours was a bit of a shock on Keith’s face. The city streets weren’t empty, but they were muted – everyone had somewhere else they’d rather be. Keith turned up the collar of his jacket and hunched his shoulders, beginning the walk back to his apartment.

This was a far from unfamiliar route for Keith, his feet seemingly instinctively knowing where to go – but there was something about the night that put Keith on edge. He found himself staring, apprehensive and unsure, at the tall buildings lining the roads, their dark windows becoming staring eyes. The shadows twitched and shuddered in unnatural ways, each bizarre movement making Keith flinch and jump. It was out of character for him – he was no stranger to late night walks through much worse neighborhoods, and yet he still felt so completely unnerved.

It was a relief when his apartment building came into sight, the walkup’s front door illuminated with a bright, friendly orange light. Keith’s hand shook as he unlocked the door and dashed into the brightly lit front hall. His apartment was on the top floor; he took the stairs two at a time to get to the top.

It was a loft, industrial and minimally furnished. A ladder led up to the mezzanine where he slept; directly below it were the small kitchen and bathroom. The rest of the apartment was dedicated to painting, filling the air with the smell of oil and mineral spirits. A few works in progress sat on their easels; on one wall was a corkboard he had hung up charcoal and pencil sketches and studies, potential future art patiently waiting for its turn. Opposite it were paintings in the midst of drying, waiting for either another layer of paint or their final varnishing. Keith breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him, throwing the two deadbolts before he took off his shoes and coat.

He climbed up the ladder to his bedroom. Keith stripped off his suit and crawled under his piles of blankets, hiding in their dark warmth. He barely managed to send off a text to Pidge, assuring her he wasn’t dead, before dropping off into sleep.

 

-

 

The nonstop ringing of his phone woke Keith up at the crack of dawn, one big violet eye peering out of his nest of blankets.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t the crack of dawn – in fact, it was nearly eleven – but it certainly felt like it. Keith checked the caller ID and CORAN flashed back at him. Keith was obligated to answer his agent, no matter how much he wanted to go back to sleep.

“Hello?” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep.

“Keith!” Coran exclaimed with his eternal manic excitement. “You sold out!”

 _That_ woke Keith up. “I did?”

“You did!” Coran repeated. “Plus, I think you got a new biggest fan – one person bought half your stock.”

Keith blinked. “Really?”

“Yes, a Takashi Shirogane,” Coran said, tapping away at his computer. “He’s actually asked if you’re willing to have dinner with him tonight to discuss a commission.”

 _Takashi Shirogane,_ why did that name ring such a bell? Right, it was that handsome rich guy from last night!

“Oh wow,” Keith said. So, he wasn’t lying about liking Keith’s art. “I don’t really know what to say.”

“I think you should go,” Coran declared. “He did just pay your rent for the next couple of months.”

“That makes me sound like a prostitute,” Keith mumbled, and then louder, “Yeah, I’ll go to dinner with him. Just…text me the details when you get them.”

“Will do,” Coran said. “I’m quite proud of you, you know? You work hard and it’s finally paying off!”

Keith flushed. “…Thanks, Coran. I really appreciate everything you do for me. I’ll see you soon.”

“Goodbye!”

Keith hung up on Coran and flopped down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before dialing Pidge.

“What up, _artiste?”_ she answered.

“One person bought half my paintings and now wants to have dinner with me to discuss a commission,” Keith said, never one to beat around the bush. Pidge was quiet for a beat, processing the information.

“…Is he hot?”

“Extremely.”

“Congrats on the sugar daddy,” Pidge declared. Keith groaned.

“I don’t know if it’s like that,” Keith said. Pidge snorted.

“It’s definitely like that,” she declared. “Let me know where and when you’re going to dinner so I can give the police a solid lead.”

“Always.”

“What’s this dude’s name, anyway?” Pidge asked. She was trying to sound casual, but Keith could hear the whirl of her various computers in the background.

“Takashi Shirogane,” Keith said. Pidge typed rapidly, then made a frustrated sound.

“No social media at all,” Pidge said. “I’m going to have to dive a little deeper into this guy.”

“You never stop, do you?” Keith asked. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“I’ll have a dossier in no time,” Pidge declared, and hung up. Keith’s phone buzzed.

_8:30 pm at Restaurant Marcus. I’ll send a car to pick you up. I can’t wait to see you. – Shiro_

-

 

Most of Keith’s business was done over email.

Even his most expensive pieces didn’t warrant a face-to-face meeting at a coffee shop, let alone one of the most expensive and exclusive restaurants in the city.

 _Pidge was right,_ Keith thought as he stepped out of the black town car that had picked him up. _Maybe he is trying to be my sugar daddy._

Keith hadn’t been sure how to dress but felt like wearing the same suit he wore the night before was probably a bad move. Keith had dug through the depths of his closet, tossing aside paint splattered shirts and torn-up jeans, and managed to find something presentable. A white button down and black blazer with no tie was stylish, right?

The maître-d gave Keith a skeptical look when he passed through the sparkling glass doors into the sleek, luxurious restaurant. Keith certainly did not belong among the polished white and black stone and glittering crystal chandeliers.

“Uh,” he said to the maître-d. “I’m here for a meeting with Takashi Shirogane? My name’s Keith…”

The maître-d’s whole expression changed in an instant, a bright customer service smile plastering itself on his face.

“Right, of course, sir!” he said. “Mister Shirogane mentioned you coming…please, right this way…”

A bit bewildered, Keith followed the maître-d through the maze of tables, guests, and waiters, ending in a booth towards the back of the house, a bit secluded from the rest. Keith slipped in, and the maître-d handed him a menu.

“Can I get you something to drink while you wait for Mister Shirogane?” he asked.

“Just a water would be fine, please,” Keith said, and took a good look at the menu, unable to figure out half of what it said. The maître-d left, and Keith sent Pidge a text.

_At Restaurant Marcus, waiting for Shirogane._

Pidge’s reply was instant. _How tf did he get a table overnight??? that place has like 50000 michelin stars_

_If I’m going to be a sugar baby I gotta stop asking questions Pidge._

“Sorry for making you wait.”

Shirogane was wearing yet another flawless bespoke suit, making Keith feel inadequate. He sat down, and in this intimate space his gaze was even more piercing.

“I just got here,” Keith assured. “Um, thank you for buying so many of my paintings last night! I was surprised when my agent told me that I sold out.”

Shirogane’s face brightened, excited, and it put Keith at ease – at once, he became something familiar and personable, rather than his still, statue-like visage of before. Perhaps he, like Keith, was just a little bit awkward around other people.

“Thank you for making it,” Shiro said. “I found myself so fascinated I just couldn’t help it. I looked at your paintings and they just filled me with a burning curiosity…I just want to know what I look like in your vision.”

“Oh, you want a portrait done?” Keith asked.

“Yes,” Shiro said. “It would be an honor to sit for you.”

Keith had done plenty of commissioned portraits, but those were all from photos sent to him. Spending so much time alone with Shiro seemed…daunting.

“I haven’t done a live model in a long time,” Keith said. “So, this will be an experiment for me, too.”

“And I haven’t sat for a portrait for years,” Shiro said. “It’ll be an experiment for both of us.”

 _He’s sat for portraits before?_ Keith thought, but their waiter came, and all such thoughts derailed.

**Author's Note:**

> [TWITTER](https://twitter.com/rainbow_dracula)
> 
>  
> 
> [TUMBLR](https://rainbowdracula.tumblr.com/)


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